The Road Home
by redseeker
Summary: SPOILERS for the end of the game. After Pyramid, Monkey and Trip begin the journey back east.
1. Chapter 1

The mech factory was dark and quiet when Monkey and Trip arrived. They had trekked back here across the wasteland because this was where Monkey had left his bike, and if they were going to travel anywhere further the vehicle would be invaluable.

Fortunately, they had already eliminated most of the mechs when they had passed through with Pigsy. Several times, however, they passed the bodies of mechs which appeared undamaged, but which did not respond or seem to function at all. Trip suggested that, just as Monkey's head-band had powered down upon Pyramid's death, it could be that Pyramid-controlled mechs had lost power at that moment too. Still, they proceeded cautiously.

Monkey stuck close to Trip whenever he could. The strong protective instinct was deeply ingrained in him now. The head-band no longer functioned, so his own life no longer depended upon Trip's wellbeing, but that didn't stop him from watching her like a hawk. His behaviour had not changed at all. If anything, he actually missed some of the head-band's more useful functions. The ability to see mines on his HUD for one, and the ability to monitor Trip's vital signs was another. He no longer had the reassuring proof that she was okay, and so he found he kept glancing over to her more often, just to check she was still unharmed. To check she was still breathing. She had started to notice, but he didn't care.

"We'll stay the night here," Trip said, when they reached what had been Pigsy's abode. It had once been some kind of control room for the factory, if the metal walls and floor and banks of non-functional consoles were anything to go by. Pigsy had added his distinctive flair to the place, which consisted mostly of faded, discoloured posters of semi-dressed women and a certain, particularly unpleasant smell. But, it was shelter, and it was reasonably safe. The turrets Pigsy had set up – at least, those Monkey had not already destroyed – were still functioning, so they were unlikely to be ambushed by mechs as long as they stayed within Pigsy's compound.

The bed looked less than savoury, so the pair huddled instead on the floor by a wall, and Monkey found some of the cleaner cloths and blankets to try to keep Trip warm. They slept sitting up with their backs resting against the wall. Or rather, Trip slept. Monkey stayed awake through force of habit, keeping watch so that Trip could rest, keeping his staff within reach. He wrapped one arm around her slim shoulders and pulled her to him, and she rested her head against his shoulder and curled in close, no doubt happy for the extra warmth.  
Trip awoke with the first sign of dawn. She looked up at him and frowned.

"Did you sleep at all, Monkey?"

Monkey gave a half shrug. "Someone's gotta keep watch."

Trip looked displeased. "Tell me next time... We can share watch duty." Not a word about how he didn't have to protect her anymore. Monkey was thankful for that. He didn't want to have to argue the point. Instead he just nodded in assent. It seemed fair, he supposed.

They crossed the rest of the mech factory in relative peace. It was eerie, passing the broken carcases of mechs and half waiting for them to spring to life. Not all the mechs were out of commission; they did run into some, but their attacks were not as co-ordinated as they once would have been. They didn't follow the patterns Monkey had grown used to, and seemed to act as though they were malfunctioning, running rogue, simply attacking anything that showed up on their sensors. More than once, the mechs destroyed one another and all Monkey and Trip had to do was get back on the boat and coast past them.

"They're cut off from their central mainframe," Trip said quietly. When Monkey gave her a questioning look, she explained, "Pyramid mechs were probably connected via their CPUs to the central computer at Pyramid HQ. Now Pyramid's destroyed, they've got nothing controlling them. Without commands to follow, I guess they're going haywire…"

"Just like the slaves," Monkey said.

* * *

They were quiet for the rest of the journey through the factory.

Monkey's bike was where they had left it. Monkey kick-started it, noting that the fuel gauge was getting low, and Trip took up her place behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her forehead against his back. They didn't set off yet, just waited, with the bike's engine humming.

"Monkey…"

"Mm?" He half turned, thinking that Trip was being quieter than usual.

"Where… do we go now?"

He knew exactly what she meant. The only home she knew had been wiped out, her last ally killed. The wilds spread all around them, nothing but wasteland for hundreds of miles.

"We find fuel for my ride," Monkey said, his tone practical. "And we look for food. And you think about where you wanna go…"

"What about you?"

Monkey turned away. He scanned the desolate road ahead, calculating how far he thought they could get on the gas left in the tank.

"…I go where you go."

* * *

Blessedly, they came upon a gas station on the desert road before the bike ran out of juice. Monkey guided the big machine off the road and onto the station forecourt, eyes scanning for any mechs in the vicinity. The place seemed deserted.

Trip got off the bike and started to look around.

"Don't go far," Monkey said. He checked the pumps to see if there was anything left in any of them.  
Trip nodded. "I won't." No arguments. Could be she was just as used to sticking with him as he was with her. Could be she knew.

They were in luck. There was enough fuel in the pumps combined to top up the bike. While Monkey was doing that, Trip checked out the building and looked for food. She came back with a few cans of something - the labels were too faded to see what they contained.

"Lucky dip."

"Seems that way," Trip said with an apologetic smile. "Better than nothing."

"Yep."

Monkey made a fire, and they sat. They opened the cans with a sharp shard of metal and cooked the contents – some kind of generic stew – over the fire. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

They sat in silence, watching the fire. Monkey knew that trip was dwelling on the same thing he was – Pyramid. It had been chaos. They had been lucky to get out of the building alive.

Trip had tried to be the leader her father had been, had tried to aid the freed slaves' transition into their new lives, give them someone to help them and to guide them. But the slaves had been wrenched straight from their dream lives and thrust into the harsh wasteland that was the real world they refused to accept. They had been lost, confused, anguished, angry… Trip had tried and failed to soothe or to lead them, and Monkey had had no choice but to get her out of there before they were both killed in the threatening melee. Trip had yelled at him, had commanded him to stop, to let her keep trying, but with Pyramid dead the head-band had already ceased to function. That meant he was no longer bound to follow Trip's commands. Instead, he had slung her over his shoulder, just as he had when fleeing the Leviathan, and run as fast as he could for the freedom of the desert.

They had made the journey across that desert on foot, past the broken wrecks of the mega-mechs. Monkey had carried Trip on his back most of the way. The girl had been despondent and quiet, and Monkey had worried she wouldn't snap out of it. Never once did he look back, and he hoped Trip had done the same.

"Done much thinking yet?" Monkey asked. He poked the fire with the slim, sharp piece of metal. Trip sat curled up beside him, watching the flames. "'Bout where to go?"

"…Where are we meant to go, Monkey?" Trip sounded resigned. Monkey looked at her. "There's nowhere left…"


	2. Chapter 2

In the face of Trip's despondent lethargy, Monkey made the decision to head a couple of days' journey north to a small community he had traded with before. If it hadn't been decimated by the slavers since Monkey's last visit, he figured they could go there to regroup, gather some supplies, and rest. It was strange to think that slave ships were, theoretically at least, no longer a threat. Monkey was not naive enough to think that this new, Pyramid-free world would be without fresh threats of its own, of course.

He steered the bike off the road about a half a mile before the town's gates. Rolling to a stop and killing the engine, he flipped down the kickstand and turned to look at Trip, who was curled against his back.

"Why're we stopping?"

"Got something to ask you."

Trip nodded, then got off the bike and sat down on a scrubby mound of earth. Monkey dismounted also and crouched opposite her. She folded her arms, a small, uncertain frown on her face.

"Hey Trip... the community we're headed to..." He gave a wry half smile. "They ain't too keen on slaves." He briefly recalled the mess they'd run into with Pigsy's automated defence systems. The sign they had ignored – "No Slaves, No Mechs" – had been a warning, but it was only when the turrets activated in response to his headband's energy signature that he had realised its real meaning. Slaves were unpopular everywhere, and the mere sight of a headband was often enough for a head-shot on sight. Since there was no plausible way the people in the town they were headed toward would have heard about the fall of Pyramid, the crown on Monkey's head was as good as a target.

Trip nodded after only a moment's thought. "You want me to remove the headband."

Monkey nodded, though he too hesitated. No, he didn't really want her to take it off. He wanted her to reactivate it, but that wasn't possible. Not this time.

"Okay..." Trip shifted so that she was on her knees beside him. He watched her, sidelong. "Hold still. I need to take a look first." She brought up the virtual screen on her wrist-bound computer, and Monkey saw the usual disconcerting display showing both the headband and what was, presumably, his own brain. "It's hardwired in, so it might be a little tricky to remove."

"How tricky? I thought it was turned off now?"

"It is. There's no power to it, and it doesn't work anymore... right?" Monkey nodded, and Trip continued, "But I still had to physically attach it to you. The inner nodes will have attached themselves to your brain tissue. I need to scan and see if it can be removed..."

"And if not?"

Trip looked sheepish. "Monkey, I need to be really careful taking this thing off. If I do it wrong..."

Monkey nodded. He knew what she was saying. He was obediently still and quiet while Trip scanned away, but the longer she took the more convinced he became that the headband was staying on his head.

After about fifteen minutes his suspicions were confirmed when Trip shut off her computer. He looked at her with one brow raised in question, and she bit her lip and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Monkey... I just don't feel confident enough to take it off you without causing any damage..."

Monkey nodded again. "Great."

* * *

They slept by the roadside, and this time they took turns with watch duty. Monkey slept only lightly, but he was still grateful for Trip taking her turn.

He lay awake for a while, trying to weigh up how he felt about the headband. Specifically, the fact that he was still wearing it. On the one hand, it wasn't exactly pretty, and had no functional use now one way or the other. It was also going to get them into trouble when they reached what passed for civilisation out here in the wasteland. On the other hand, though... On the other hand, he felt almost glad Trip had been unable to remove it.

He wasn't sure why that was. He decided to stop thinking about it and go to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, bright and early, saw them rolling up to the settlement's tall security gates. Monkey saw the gun turrets a moment too late, and he hissed as he heard the familiar click and whirr of one of their sensors tripping. He shoved Trip off the bike and crouched down behind the machine, using the bike as temporary cover and shielding Trip with his arms.

"I'm okay...!" Trip gasped. They stayed still for a moment longer until the guns paused. Searching for new targets, he guessed. "You take them out. I'll distract them."

"Same as usual," Monkey said, and Trip offered a smile.

There were two turrets mounted either side of the gate. With the help of Trip's holographic decoy, Monkey was able to overpower the first, and use its gun to shoot out the second.

Trip peeked out from behind the bike, on all fours, and grinned up at him. "Great job," she said, and Monkey was pleased to see her old self resurface.

He was about to jump down to open the gate and bring the bike through, when a new slew of gunfire forced him to drop flat on his front, hands over his head.

"Monkey!"

"Stay where you are!"

He swore and rolled, and succeeded in leaping back off the wall onto the outside. The gunfire was coming from inside, from a small group of locals armed with automatics. He sprinted back to Trip and the bike, putting himself between her and the gates. The gates creaked and opened, and the group of five hard looking guards trained their weapons on them.

"No slaves!" one of them – a woman, though most of her face was covered by a protective mask – yelled. "One more step and we drop you."

Trip stepped back from Monkey before he could stop her, but she held her hands up, palms out. "He's not a slave! ...At least, not anymore. He's with me. We're not Pyramid!"

"And who are you?"

Monkey reached out and took Trip's elbow. He gently pulled her back, and discreetly stepped back in front of her.

"Name's Monkey. I've traded here before," Monkey called. "We're just lookin' for some shelter, then we'll move on. We don't mean any harm."

There was a long silence, and Monkey thought they would have to be on their way sooner rather than later, but then the leader in the mask slowly lowered her gun. The others took their lead from her and did the same, but he could tell they weren't quite in the clear. The woman indicated with a movement of her head that they should enter, and Monkey hopped on the bike and slowly drove it in. Trip hung on behind him, clinging tightly.

The gate shut fast after them. A quick glance back saw heavy metal bolts sliding into place.

The guards – three men and two women – surrounded them as Monkey eased the bike to a stop.

"Were you followed?" asked the leader. She pulled off her mask. She had dark skin and black hair pulled back tightly from her face, which was angular and attractive. Her build was muscular, and her grip on her rifle practised.

"By mechs?" Monkey and Trip dismounted the bike and, since they still had guns pointed at them, stood with their hands up. Monkey noticed Trip stood very close to him. He kept his posture ready, body taut, silently and subtly sizing up the five and deciding how long it would take him to kill them all. "Pretty sure I woulda noticed something like that." He figured there wasn't much point explaining about Pyramid. No one would believe it, anyway. "'S just like I said. We're just passing through, like everyone else."

The woman nodded. "You got anything to trade?"

"Nah, but I know someone here who owes me a favour. If they're still alive."

"If they're still here," the woman said with a tiny, wry smirk. "Most folk just pass through, like you said." She nodded to her crew to stand down. "I'm Nix. I run security here. Cross me and we'll have words, but keep yourself and your woman under control and we'll have no quarrel. Have a pleasant stay." Monkey nodded, and ignored Trip's indignant huff. "By the way, we will of course be confiscating your bike."

Monkey grimaced. "Sure..."

"You can pick it up when you leave."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"We'll be watching you."

* * *

After that prickly welcome, Monkey and Trip were left free to enter and roam the settlement as they pleased. It was a small place, and the walls and defences seemed to be left over from a much larger town that had once existed on the same site. Turrets were mounted all along the perimeter, as well as numerous cameras. Monkey guessed that was what Nix had meant.

The buildings were huddled together at the base of a steep and rocky incline, a few hundred metres from the gate. The space in between was dusty scrubland. A fragile looking cluster of crumbling concrete and leaning corrugated iron, the settlement bustled with a disparate, grubby crowd.

"Will we be safe here?" Trip asked. She seemed to have gotten over her nerves, and now walked a few feet in front of Monkey, her eyes scanning the tall metal walls and their defences.

"Slavers won't be a problem," Monkey said. "This community's different every time I come here – it's always been rebuilt. I guess they won't have to do that anymore..."

"I guess not..."

Monkey knew she was thinking of her own destroyed home. "Hey. The guy I gotta see should be this way." He indicated with a nod.

"I'm gonna have a look around for a while."

"I'm not so sure that's such a great idea..."

"Monkey, come on. What's going to happen? There are no mechs here, and you said yourself slavers aren't a problem anymore. We should know, right?" She smiled. Monkey wasn't convinced, but there was no arguing with Trip once she'd made up her mind.

"...Don't go far."

"Don't worry." She reached out and touched his arm, a carelessly affectionate gesture. "I'll see you soon."

He nodded, and, against Monkey's better judgement, they parted. He knew she was more than capable, but separating just didn't sit right with him. The last time they'd gone anything like their separate ways, it had been Monkey chasing after a distraught Trip through the ruins of her village. He had hated that, and not only because his own life had been in danger every time a mech spotted her.

He sighed, and then stretched to work a kink out of his shoulder. Nothing to do but go see if his contact was still alive. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could find Trip again.


End file.
